


Satisfied

by problematicorca



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Mutual Pining, Trans Dick Grayson, dick and wally cockblocking themselves by not talking about their feelings, native american dick grayson, native american wally west, rated for later additions, wild parties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-15 21:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematicorca/pseuds/problematicorca
Summary: Loosely connected ficlets following Wally West and his attempt to work through a one night stand with one of his rogues and his own feelings for his best friend. Tags will be added as I add onto it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Come and kiss me, and let's forget." 
> 
> No birdflash in this one, sorry guys.

Wally had not realized the extent of his consumption until it was far too late. The world around him was spinning with bright, neon lights and faces that he only partially recognized. The music was booming, it's bass turned up to a deafening volume that made it impossible to hear the person next to you. He gave his metabolism a little more credit than he should in regards to his alcohol consumption. At some point does he vaguely remember some girl mumble about pills that were scattered amongst the party-goers. She had kissed him with such vigor that he forgot to ask about where the source was- as he would prefer to apprehend anyone bringing drugs to a party. With the uncomfortable way his body burned and the muffled noise around him, Wally realized with a start that he found the drugs alright. He could feel his heart rate suddenly accelerate, and a burning tingle had begun to spread through the entirety of his body with it. The next thing he knows, he is sloppily dancing with some girl who's face he will not recognize to a song he could not remember. All he knows is that he likes the closeness of their bodies, and wishes they were closer still. The rest of his time there was a blur of dancing bodies, alcohol haze, loud music, and the most uncomfortable sort of neediness, the likes of which he has never felt before.

He awoke in the familiarity of his apartment, much to his own confusion. He sat up, realizing he was on his couch. _Who had brought him here?_   "Oy, Flasher." Wally's eyes widened as his whole body tensed. He knew that voice,  _that accent_. Not too far away, lounged carelessly across one of his chairs, was Mirror Master himself and looking as annoyed as ever. Wally visibly leaned back, furrowing his brow in both obvious and unspoken confusion. "Cold woulda had my head if I'da left ye there." 

_Were there pillow feathers scattered along his floor?_

Slowly, Wally was beginning to note the destruction of his own apartment. There were deep gouges along the armrest of his couch, which Wally vaguely remembers making with his fingers. His coffee table had lost two of it's legs and leaned to one side in a mess of feathers and destroyed fabric that used to be pillows once. The strong smell of alcohol lingered heavily (Wally had thought it was just from himself previously) along with stains on the floor that Wally prayed was just booze. He has never been blackout drunk before, and was left frustrated at the gaps in his memory. When he rolled his shoulders, he found they ached from rakes along his back. "What happened?" The speedster slurred, trying to ignore the fact that his only cover was the blanket draped over him in a half-hearted fashion. This may yet be  _the worst_ Morning After he has ever had, specifically because it had to be  _Mirror Master_ of all his Rogues. "What are you doin' here, McCulloch?"

"Savin' yer ass," Evan spat, and the venom could not have been more saturdated in his voice if he tried. "Th' fook did ye think ye were doin' anyway?" Perhaps McCulloch had shared his unwillingness to acknowledge the elephant in the room too. He went on to explain how he was at the same, wild party last night and noticed Wally among some of the more intoxicated crowd. He would have ignored Wally completely (confessing that he was also pretty high at the time) if not for the fact that a few of the women were continuously slipping him more and more pills as the night progressed. Evan also confessed that he was mildly impressed at how much booze and ecstasy (it took Wally a minute to realize he did mean ecstasy when he said  _Molly_ ) he had downed before he was removed from the scene. "Anyone else woulda been dead."

Wally eyed him suspiciously before responding, "I'm not anyone else." There was just one minor detail that went unexplained: " _Why_  am I naked?" He sincerely doubts that the girls had managed disrobing him completely, though he is willing to credit them for the rail rakes on his back. The way Evan flinched away from the inquiry was enough of a response. Knowing McCulloch as well as he does, and Wally would bank that he knows all of his Rogues fairly well, he was very _unwilling_ to press the matter any further. "That's--" he paused, sitting up fully and letting the blanket gather at his waist. "That's okay. We were both really- out of it, last night." He could see some of the tension loosen itself from Mirror Master's shoulders. "No one needs to know," Wally assured. 

_"And yer fookin' crazy if ye think it's ever happenin' again. I'm not a f-"_

"I know." Wally brushed his bangs back with a sigh, quick to silence that rant before it was started. "I know, McCulloch. It dies with us, alright?" Wally had resolved that he would not be attentioned any wild parties for awhile either. "Thank you." It was in part for the rescue, but Wally realized he could easily be misunderstood. "Thank you for getting me out of there. Who knows what would've happened if I stayed." 

The rest of his time there was brief, and Wally felt immense relief after he had gone. His fingers trailed along his shoulder, feeling the heat of the angry rakes left behind. Those were not caused by the girls, he concluded. His memory from the night before would return in fragments, and Wally accepted that they would remain incomplete for the rest of his days. He could accept that much at least. There one final, usual sweep across his apartment before he resigned himself to the task of cleaning it. He had known better than to ask Evan for help; he would have scoffed it off and left anyway. 

He remembers them  _laughing_ and kissing sloppily in the safety of his apartment; he remembers when McCulloch punted him with the pillow for stealing away the booze, sending a flurry of it's feathers cascading down on and around him from the force of it. He can't remember if his clothes came off all at once, or if it happened progressively during the out-of-hand excitement between them, spurred on by a dangerous mixture of cocaine, ecstasy, cheap beer, and champagne; Wally had not touched the coke, but he wasn't sure whether or not Evan chanced the drug mixture while at the party. The whole night had been completely irresponsible on his part, and while he regrets most of his night? 

He could not regret finding himself trapped beneath Evan's body and the couch. The memory was hazy, but it didn't matter. There was no point in focusing on it for too long anyway.  _It was never going to happen again anyway_. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All these soft, warm nights going to waste when I ought to be lying in your arms under the moon."

When in regards to the topic of love, Wally West would know a little better than Dick Grayson in some respects. Between them was a shared familiarity and understanding of abuse, of failed expectations, and of finding themselves drowned in the currents and shadows of their predecessors. They knew each other better than anyone else, and could argue that they knew their companion just as well as they knew themselves. It was both uncomfortable and somehow relieving to have someone understand you so wholly. Thus explained why Grayson was unwilling to accept Wally's answer when he asked if something was wrong. His friend was always on the move, but now finds himself seated perfectly for an unbroken thirty minutes of silence. This time was spent with a distant look clouding his usually vibrant green eyes, silence hanging on his shoulders as heavily as the weight of the world. He had attempted to insist that he was fine, but "C'mon, Walls. I know you better than this." Grayson wasn't buying into it. 

Uncertainty caused a waver through the speedster, but he bit his tongue with the promise that  _no one would ever know_. Besides, it stands to reason that- despite the arrangement between both Flash and Nightwing remaining casual- it was a little unnerving to speak about secondary lovers. Somewhere deep down, suppressed by fear and doubt, were unspoken feelings that burned as bright and fiercely as the sun; feelings that Wally harbored for his best friend, of course. He reasoned (somehow) that there was no way his friend would ever reciprocate, and contented himself with their casual affair. He would take whatever he could get, after all. However, the silence was damning for both parties involved, as Grayson felt the same way, with the same fears, with an unwillingness to  _ruin_ their friendship and run the risk of losing his best friend all together. "Wally," he persisted, resting both hands on the speedster's face so that their eyes locked. Sincerity and love dripped from his words as they parted slowly and in earnest. "You can tell me," he insisted, and prayed the look in his eye was enough to convince his friend, to assure him. He could always share his secrets here.

Wally's hands found purchase on Grayson's hips, pressing his fingers in lightly. "You know," he grinned, "you have the  _prettiest_ eyes." He would cut off Grayson's scoff with a soft kiss that was meant to distract him. He knows it was only temporary, that his friend was too smart to forget about this, but in the protection of Nightwing's  _personal_ apartment and away from the prying eyes of the world, Wally would prefer using this rare moment to indulge in a gentle intimacy that bubbled between them. Such opportunities were scarcely promised, but almost never guaranteed. Their responsibilities as heroes came first, after all. "Just a run-in with Mirror Master," Wally confessed. "It was unnerving and stressful. You know how my Rogues are."

This was an answer that Grayson could accept, and he showed his appreciation by climbing into Wally's lap. "Want a distraction?" He didn't even need to wait for an answer, knowing Wally too well. They kissed again as the speedster pulled their bodies close, pressed against each other while his hands wandered along a familiar body. Soft  _I love you_ 's lingered on the tip of his tongue whenever he found himself in these situations. He silenced them with gentle kisses and bites that left marks along his friend's neck and shoulders. 

If he would not vocalize his love, he would at least act upon it. 

Nights like these were greatly appreciated by the speedster, who found himself calmed and reassured afterward. He awoke the next morning, once again finding himself naked and in a familiar setting. The sun had yet to peek over the horizon, but dawn was upon them for sure. Even so, he found himself enjoying the warmth and comfort of the body next to him and nestled closer under the blankets. One arm was draped lazily over him, and Grayson- in his half asleep state- tangled his fingers lightly in fiery red locks. Wally slowly drifted back to sleep under the gentle touch, only to wake a few hours later and find himself alone. There was a note left behind where his would-be lover had been previously, but it brought little joy to Wally. Unfortunately, responsibilities were not easily skirted, and even less so by someone raised and trained by  _Batman_. Grayson always put his responsibilities first, especially in regards to punctuality for his job. 

Blüdhaven had been so beautiful and undisturbed during the night, as if holding it's breath and letting it's savior have a moment to himself. Now that Wally looked out the half-cracked blinds and through the window, he realized how gray and heavy everything was. Had it always been this way?  _Or am I just being dramatic?_ He shook his head and slipped out of bed to search for his clothes. If Grayson was going to busy himself with work, then Wally decided it was hightime to return to Keystone before his Rogues realized he was away.

The thought of his Rogues brought Wally pause though, despite it being brief. He recovered quickly, with another shake of the head in an attempt to toss the memories of  _that night_ away. Ever since it happened, intrusive thoughts of  _the incident_ (as Wally so wryly nicknamed it) had found their way into almost everything he did. For whatever reason, he was suddenly  _dreading_ his next run-in with his Rogues gallery. How would things differ?  _Would there be any difference?_ There was a small ray of hope that nothing would change, nothing would tip him off of what  _was_ ; it was a stupid, drunken, drugged up lapse in judgment that was turning into more of a thorn in his side than a good time to be enjoyed. 

"Damnit," Wally mumbled as he raked his hands through his hair.  _It was only a one night stand_ , he reasoned.  _I've been on plenty of those_. Few were ever with super-villains who operated in groups that frequently found their way into the papers for whatever crime, or attempted crime. 

He knows he'll feel better after another run-in, when he will  _know_ how Mirror Master will respond to his presence.  _Hopefully nothing has changed_. 

Right before he leaves, Wally snatches up the note left behind for him and pockets it. Even if he need not read the contents inside, he will still take it with him and keep it close. Who knows when he will get the opportunity to see Dick again, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I let the bullets fly, oh let them rain  
> My luck, my love, my God, they came from pain."

When anticipating the next move from the Rogues, Wally knew he should be  _grateful_ for the silence. Instead, it made him even more restless from anxiety, overthinking the reasoning behind it. To some extent, he found himself worrying more about their well being and  _What was taking them so long?_ There was simply no way the group had grown bored of their antics. Rogue boredom usually consisted of a raid on the city,  _not_ total silence. His answer came in the form of reports, sightings of a yellow speedster stirring throughout the city. Wally realized that his Rogues were probably laying low, trying to avoid Zolomon. This was some  _small_ relief in the grand scheme of it all, relieving him from his concerns (mainly his  _guilt_ ) about the Rogues to a grander terror of what  _Hunter_ was trying to do. He didn't just run around the city and make a  _scene_ of things without some ulterior motive. 

Welcome to bizzaro Keystone, where the party never ends. 

His days turned into constant investigations, gathering evidence, working with the police, trying to piece together some semblance of logic in a plan made by a madman. His nights turned sleepless and perturbed, his mind clouded with worry as what happened  _That Night_ was forgotten in the myriad of messes that Zoom was creating. To Waly, it all seemed like a desperate plea for attention; that is what scared him the most. He lived for the nights he spent with Grayson, their bodies locked together, moving against each other, finding comfort from the other, only for it all to wash away in the sun's morning glow. Wally started to share Dick's love for the night, but hardly for the same reasons. Mornings were quiet and lonely, and often found Wally on his way home to deal with another crises. 

Thus was the life of a hero. 

His first fire of the day started early. Wally always found himself at the door of his apartment in impeccable timing, with at least an hour to spare before responsibilities beckoned him away from the unfamiliarity of his own bed and out to the glittering pollution of his city. He was looking forward to breakfast, to pancakes and bacon, and planning what all he could do with the food he has on hand as he opened the door. Wally barely had time to step inside when he heard it: _"Oy, Flasher."_ Instinctively, he froze. This was the  _second time_ Wally has found Mirror Master in his home, uninvited, and started to wonder if he had _'Halfway House'_ written somewhere on the door. 

He immediately regret his crass thought after he got a better look at the Rogue's condition. Wally quickly shut the door behind himself, looking around as if he expected the others to be here too. "What happened?" They were alone again, but Evan looked as if he had been pulled through a wood-chipper. His clothes were torn and blood stained-- hell, blood was  _everywhere_. Deep gashes ran across his face, his chest, his sides, causing the blood to cake his clothes to his body and open wounds in a painful fitting. "Why- Why did you come here?"  _Why to me?_ , he wondered as he stepped closer. Out of concern, he reached out for McCulloch's face, only to have his hand slapped away angrily as the Rogue bared his teeth. He was very reminiscent of a wild animal in a trap, Wally thought as he pulled his hand away. Indignation would not let him back down completely though, he persisted with a frustrated, "Let me  _help_ you. That's why you came here right?"  _Why else would he come here?_

Dread crept in on him with increasing familiarity as Wally is left to ponder what had become of the rest of McCulloch's group. Were they in equally poor condition? "Yer bonnie bastirt friend paid us a visit." McCulloch's voice is dripping with sarcasm and bitterness as he leans back, his body reading less guarded than he was only moments prior. "Ah knew ye were th' best chance Ah had, soon as Ah got away." His eyes shift away with faux-casual indifference, trying not to  _stare_ too long. He was perfectly willing to ignore whatever happened between himself and the Flash; feelings like those? They were  _wrong_ , and he wouldn't indulge them again. He could blame the alcohol, blame the drugs, blame anything and everything but never admit that he might have enjoyed Wally's company a little more than he would care to admit. He was a  _Rogue_ , and while they had their weird relationship of tolerance and trust with the current Flash? He knew better than to start playing both sides like that. It could only lead to trouble. "Th' others..." That seemingly amused tug at the Scotsman's lips shifted to a frown, his voice trailing off as his eyes grew fixated on some random point in the apartment. 

Zolomon hated them, that was common knowledge. He had run through with such ease, effortlessly cutting through them while the group was unprepared. Perhaps that may be the only reason why he was able to tear them up so easily, but Evan wouldn't dwell on it for too long. Zoom was  _faster_ than Wally, which meant he had to be  _smarter_ than Zoom. Interactions with him would almost guarantee a painful, useless death. His obsession with making Wally miserable had little to do with his vendetta for the Rogues, but as they say: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Evan may not like having to team up with Wally again, but at least he knows he can trust the red-haired idiot to get the job done. The focus now, was getting better and finding some way to take Zolomon out. "Ah'll make ye an offer, Flasher." Evan snapped back to reality with a shake of his head, still unwilling to make eye-contact with the speedster. "You an' me. We find a way t' git him back fer this-- an' whatever else he's done too. Awright?"

A  _frown_ or even  _hesitation_ was  _not_ what Mirror Master expected for an answer. Wally could see that much, as soon as he did it, but his reservations were not in part of the idea itself rather than the  _backlash_ he knows is about to fall on him when the city realizes he's teaming up with one of his Rogues. This was barely scraping the surface of what made him take pause; just being  _near_ Evan again made his stomach churn, like a kid's when riding a rollercoaster that has suddenly dropped. He swallowed down the lump trying to form in his throat, but his eyes never left the bloodied figure that was no doubt ruining his chair. "First..." he speaks, his voice wavering initially before he steadied himself. "First, we get you some medical attention. I don't know  _how_ I would explain a dead Rogue in my apartment." He has to stop himself from smirking at the  _scoff_ Evan made in reply. "Then we can... start brainstorming ideas." Some help from one of his Rogues- someone who already knows how to combat a speedster- may do him some good in the long run. 

"Ye cannae exactly take me t' th' hospital." 

"Not here." Wally's lips curled back with a smug grin, "But I know somewhere that Zoom  _won't_ go looking for either of us." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I am never afraid of what I know."

The seconds dragged on like  _hours_  as Wally paced back and forth in the waiting room. It had been a struggle to get McCulloch here at first, and if not for Wally's quick healing then he may be nursing a black eye as he waited. Evan wanted his help, well this is what it looked like. He wouldn't risk any retaliation against Zoom with an injured partner, especially not one as bad off as Mirror Master had been. Although it was for  _completely selfish reasons_  that Wally brought him here, to Bludhaven. If asked, he would brush it off with the casual reply of, "It's not safe in Central or Keystone." While that was not exactly a  _lie_ , it was not the absolute truth behind his actions either. He could have gone to S.T.A.R. Labs, perhaps  _should have_  gone to S.T.A.R. Labs, but they didn't have the one thing Bludhaven did: Nightwing. Of course, it would help if he could get a text back. 

The silence was unsettling, twisting Wally's gut in uncomfortable ways that even made him turn his nose up at food. Then again, hospital food wasn't the best; could anyone blame him for rejecting it?

[text]: _Are you there?_

He has to find some way to occupy himself or else his speed is going to kick in. Then the seconds really will pass like hours at a time, and Wally was not emotionally prepared to handle the white walls and glare of overhead lights any longer than he had to. The only reason he bothered to wait was to ensure that Evan wouldn't snatch any choice pain killers or any other drugs he could get his hands on when he was discharged. In this, Wally found himself in a state of anxiety: Would Evan get released as soon as he left? But the longer the seconds ticked by, that was just another moment wasted that he could have spent running to Dick's door and investigating. 

The man had work, of course. Wally knew this, but it did little to ease his nerves and assure him that something wasn't the matter at all. The universe seemed to tell him otherwise. His instincts were screaming that there was something awful on the horizon and the fear only mounted every second he waited until it became unbearable, and then--- Just as he decided to leave, he was shackled there a few minutes longer by Evan stumbling out, grumbling and agitated. "This place's a fookin' pigsty, West," he spat as soon as Wally was within earshot. "Ye bring me t' the slums? Oi, th' fook' did Ah do t' ye that was so bad?" 

Wally wanted to mention That Night they shared, but thought better of it. "I thought you were from Glasgow," he countered with a sly grin pulling back on his lips. 

This caused Evan to tense up, his expression souring before he relaxed and lightly punched the speedster's shoulder. "Ye're fookin' racist too, y'cunt. Ah'm nae from Glasgow. Now, will ye tell me wot th' 'ell we're doin' 'ere?" 

Oh, how Wally wished he could. Bringing Mirror Master, a member of his Rogues gallery, to the private home of Nightwing would be a breach of trust though, and risk giving away his identity. If there was one person that Wally would not even come close to risking that with, it was Mirror Master. Nevermind the fact that they were now working together (or would be, as soon as he healed up enough), but Dick never consented to working with or even opening his home to one of Wally's Rogues. "A friend of mine operates out of this city. I thought we could lay low here, but—he's not responding to any of my messages."

Evan rolled his eyes and turned his head away with a scoff. "Some friend."

" _Hey_ \--" Wally could handle any sort of abuse thrown his way, but no one was allowed to speak ill of Dick. "He's a _great_ friend." Sometimes, Wally wished he was more than that. "But there's nothing we can do if he won't answer me." The only option he had left was going home, and hope that Dick would answer him soon. 

\-------------

Hiding out at the Flash's home was not as terrible as Mirror Master might have anticipated. For one, there was always an abundance of food and heat. Everything was clean, unlike in the Rogues' hideout, but he did notice the lack of dirty magazines. How the hell did West get his rocks off, Evan wondered. Not that it really mattered to McCulloch how Wally got off, but he did sometimes find himself thinking back to that hazy, drunken, drug-induced night together. 

If asked, Evan would _deny_ any recollection of that night, but that was just a _lie_. Perhaps Wally knew and respected their unspoken agreement to remain silent. Even so, brown eyes would sometimes wander of the speedster's lithe form, admiring a slim build made specifically for running and toned calves. Sometimes he would imagine his hands running between them, parting them as the Flash lays back and lets him have his way. Sometimes he would imagine a fight between them before aggressive kissing and biting followed. Nothing was ever so gentle and kind with Mirror Master when he was fantasizing about another man, because in the back of his head he knew that he was not like that. 

He had been told all his life that it was wrong. So, silent he stayed, keeping his desires to himself as he lay back and relaxed in the Flash's home.

As the days turned in to weeks, Wally began growing fearful for the fate of his dear friend. They had never gone so long without communication before, leaving him with one very obvious alternative: He would go there himself, which meant leaving Evan behind in his home, without supervision. McCulloch was no child of course, but that only made it worse. This was a grown man with the need to escape from reality so bad that he would act out, sometimes violently, but always stupidly. 

"I'll be back," he assured and immediately took note of the disgruntled look on Evan's face. The man clearly felt frustrated that Wally was babying him, but that was furthest from the truth. He mentioned it so Evan knew better than to raid his home while he was away. "Just keep the windows closed and find some legal way to amuse yourself." 

"Aye, _Mum_ ," McCulloch sneered as he leaned back in his chair. 

\-----

"Dick?" Wally's voice echoed in the apartment as he unlocked the door and stepped in. He was obviously home, if the lights and sounds of shuffling from within were anything to judge by. A worried speedster slipped in, shutting the door behind himself before going any further. "Dickiebird?" His voice was softer, more hesitant. He had not been run out immediately, but it sounded like Dick was avoiding him.

" _In here_." His tone was somber, something Wally was not used to hearing whenever Dick spoke to him. Wally found him sitting on his couch in the den, looking so gloomy and downhearted. Wally sunk down beside him on the couch, leaning against him for comfort. 

"What's the matter?" Wally jumped right in to it, resting his chin on Dick's shoulder. His suspicions were confirmed when Grayson leaned away some, resting his hands on Wally's shoulders to push him back and give himself some space. Dick thought better of it, letting the speedster stay close for his own sake. His silence made Wally even more anxious, his own hands coming up to rest over Grayson's and tangle their fingers together. "What is it?" He asked again, his brow drawing together. 

Dick looked like he was struggling with the words, fighting on whether he should say anything at all. Seeing Wally's worried face cut right through his core, making him feel bad for ever trying to cut him out. "So..." How could he think Wally would hate him for what happened? It was an accident. "You know that I forget my hormones sometimes..."

Wally's brow arched as he leaned his head back. Is that what this is all about? "Yeah... Do you want me to start reminding you again? I can-!"

But Dick shook his head, looking even more distressed. "It's not that. I think it might be a little too late," he let out a shaky sigh. Then, the moment of truth: "I'm... pregnant." 

Wally's whole body suddenly went rigid. His breath caught, shoulders tightening as he stared and waited for the punchline, waited for Dick to let out a laugh and reassure him that this was all some terrible prank that he was playing. When it never came, the severity of the situation started to sink in. Not only would this ruin Dick's reputation (he had worked so hard to ensure that no one knew he was trans), but Wally had been the one to do this to him. His breath suddenly went shaky, hands tightening on Grayson's. "I can pay for a--" He stopped, biting his lower lip. "I can—Whatever you want to do, I'll support you. What do you need?"


End file.
